


The Paradise Garden

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wormholes....  always only lead to trouble for the crew of Moya.</p><p>Whilst the crew of the Defiant stumble across a mystery which they have to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written (or started) in response to Vinegardog’s Starburst Challenge 76 ‘Defiance’, and M1812L jokingly posting a picture of the Defiant in response to that challenge. Thanks, both of you, I think, for getting me started on another long fic. I’d sworn off these things. ;-) 
> 
> Setting: ST-DS9 Year 2372, FS, a year and a half post PKW. Spoilers to be expected based on that. Both shows are well over a decade old, so…. Just go and watch them, then you won’t get spoiled by anything ever again. DS9 is my favourite bit of Trek, but my word was it hard to get a handle on people, times and places for writing fanfic.
> 
> Thanks to Vinegardog for betaing and for the challenge and M1812L for the visual prompt and for pointing out a small error in Chapter 1 (now corrected).
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, yadda yadda.

Doctor Julian Bashir was running late and the thin, temporary wrapping on his newly acquired jacket was not cooperating: it simply refused to allow itself to be torn away. Why, he found himself wondering, did things like that always happen at the most inconvenient of moments? Finally, the thin cover tore open: He bundled it up and dropped it in the recycling chute before shrugging the now released garment over his shoulders. He paused by the door to grab his holdall before heading out of his quarters as fast as his legs would carry him without running: His three days leave had started an hour ago and he was determined not to miss the daily shuttle down to Bajor. As he neared the docking tube, his hand slipped into the inside pocket to pull out his wallet… and encountered something unexpected.

What was that doing in there? Julian pondered, coming to an abrupt halt in the busy corridor. His brow furrowed. Someone knocked into him and he mumbled an apology before stepping to the side of the corridor, seeking refuge from the flow of people.

He glanced at the small data chip, lying so unobtrusively in the palm of his hand, for a long handful of seconds before deciding that duty came before pleasure. He couldn’t just ignore the chip: he had to find out what was on it. It was his duty, even if he wasn’t simply curious. Shaking his head glumly at the prospect of his ruined shore leave, Lieutenant Dr Julian Bashir, Starfleet officer, turned around and headed for his office.

‘~’

“I assure you, Captain Sisko, Doctor Bashir,” Garak insisted with a most unconvincingly innocent smile plastered on his face. “I had no idea…. Yes, I believe that the doctor’s jacket was previously purchased by another customer…. “ Bashir gave a wan smile. “And promptly returned…. His spouse insisted that it did not suit him, apparently. I can only marvel at the poor taste of some ladies.” Garak winked at Bashir.

“Is that so?” Sisko seemed somewhat doubtful: his cynicism was not lost on Bashir. Garak’s protestations of innocence were almost convincing. If only the chip had not contained, amongst other ephemera, highly encoded details of some sort of covert meeting deep inside the Maquis-Cardassian territories, Captain Sisko might have been more inclined to believe him. It was intriguing. There were very few details – the coordinates of a planetoid were listed in the Federation records as a small, disputed or abandoned Maquis colony. There were suggestions that the Dominion delegation would be headed by at least a Vorta, that the Obsidian Order would be contributing to a high-level Cardassian delegation and that there would be a third delegation present, representatives of some place known only as the Scarran Imperium, whoever they might be. When that information was combined with some abstract ‘tide tables’ relating to subspace anomalies rippling out from the Bajoran wormhole, it was inevitable that Starfleet would want to investigate further.

“These things are not unusual in my profession. I would be a very poor businessman if I discarded my stock so casually….” Bashir watched, fascinated, as Captain Sisko rolled his baseball around beneath his fingers like a talisman of truth. Garak paused. He smiled again. Seconds ticked by. “Umm, if you would be so kind as to return the chip to me, perhaps I could try to return it to its rightful owner?” Captain Sisko gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Garak had the decency to alter his expression to show a modicum of disappointment at the decision.

And perhaps if the chip had not contained such an incendiary mix of information and if it hadn’t come to them via Garak, then Captain Sisko might not have insisted that the would-be tailor accompany the crew of the Defiant as they went to investigate.

‘~’

Eighteen monens had passed since the Ancient, Einstein, had erased the wormhole equations from former-IASA Commander John Crichton’s mind, but, newly-blonde or not, the ex-astronaut still felt drawn to wormholes. He knew that Aeryn Sun, his Sebacean, or should he say genetically enhanced human wife, did not approve of his obsession, but she allowed him this one indulgence. Today was, after all, the anniversary of him closing the wormhole to Earth in order to protect his home planet from the Scarrans. He was pretty sure that Aeryn had weighed up the risks and had decided that there would be little harm in allowing him to return to the scene. Whatever her thought process had been, she had kept it pretty much to herself. Some things didn’t change, it seemed, although Crichton was half grateful that she had not chosen to argue the matter with him. He had no wish to fall out with her, regardless of her sometimes prickly personality. Time had taught him the many advantages of remaining on her good side.

The day had passed almost without incident. Crichton had indulged himself by pandering to his inner teenager as he reflected on how he was now cut off from Earth. He had moped around a bit and had spent an inordinate amount of time on the terrace, staring out into space. And then, as ship’s evening had drawn on, Moya had began to slowly move away from the wormhole field. They had been travelling for about half an arn and Aeryn had finally persuaded him to join her, their son D’Argo and their friend, Chiana for third meal when things took an unexpected turn.

“Captain!” Pilot announced, the giant, lobster-like creature’s image springing from the central chamber’s clamshell projector.

“Yes, Pilot?” Aeryn replied, continuing to feed Deke. She had inherited the position of Moya’s captain after the death of Ka D’Argo, the former incumbent, during the Peacekeeper-Scarran war. It wasn’t a position she had sought, but the only other serious candidate for the job amongst Moya’s tiny crew was her husband. All agreed that her calm demeanour and superior knowledge of life at this end of the wormhole made her the stronger candidate. It did not hurt that she and Pilot shared such a uniquely close bond. Also, seeing as John had spent several days unconscious after Ka D’Argo’s death, she had had to assume the role and had been established as acting-captain when the vote was taken.

“Moya has detected a Scarran ship, heading into the wormhole field at high speed.” Pilot explained.

“What sort of ship?” John demanded, instantly on his feet, a bundle of nervous energy. The Scarrans remained a belligerent force, despite the peace treaty and no one on board was likely to forget how they had once kidnapped and tortured Aeryn or how they had killed Ka D’Argo. Aeryn laid a hand on his arm, calming him slightly simply through her touch.

“If we had to hazard a guess, Moya and I would speculate that it is a modified Stryker.” Pilot continued steadily, well used to the way things worked between John and Aeryn.

“What would the Scarrans be doing out here?” Chiana asked, more to herself than anyone present. She wasn’t expecting anyone present on Moya to know the answer. After all, few learned anything of the Scarrans’ plans and lived long enough to report them to anyone else.

“Wormholes,” Crichton growled under his breath, with the unfocussed stare of a man lost in his darkest thoughts.

“Hold our current position,” Aeryn ordered Pilot as she squeezed John’s arm, pulling his attention back to her with a start. She flashed a reassuring smile at him. Although she was curious as to what the Scarrans were up to, she had no desire to get any closer to them. Moya was, after all, unarmed. Their only defence was to have sufficient warning to starburst away from any hostile craft.

John blinked twice, his eyes looking onto Aeryn’s. “S’Okay,” he reassured her with a grin and a shrug. She nodded back and stood. It was time for action.

“Chi, can you look after Deke for us please?” Aeryn asked, already moving to hand the child over to her friend. “Command.” She stated simply, turning back to John, who nodded his agreement and turned to leave, heading for the Command deck.

‘~’

Tense microts ticked by on Moya’s Command as John, Aeryn, Pilot and Moya juggled to keep track of the Scarran ship whilst remaining unnoticed or ignored themselves. John paced nervously to and fro, his attention focussed on the empty void visible through the main viewport. Aeryn stood rigidly behind the main console, her attention divided between the readouts, the viewing portal and her emotionally fragile husband. If the Scarrans started paying them any attention then they would have to starburst away. Which would probably mean overruling John’s wishes and a subsequent argument. She sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but she was captain now – they couldn’t risk a confrontation with a Stryker. Not out here, so far from any assistance their allies or the Scarrans’ enemies might be able to offer.

“Captain, Commander, Moya and I are detecting fluctuations in space time…. A pressure bubble is form…..”

Pilot fell silent as a wormhole blossomed into life maybe 50 metras away. It was difficult to tell by eye alone, with nothing to give it a sense of scale.

“The Scarran ship is moving towards the wormhole,” Pilot narrated. It would have been impossible to tell otherwise – the size of and distance to the anomaly were so great that nothing of the ship could be seen even by Aeryn’s superior eyes. “It’s gone in….. it’s… it’s gone!” Pilot continued, displaying a rare case, for him, of being almost lost for words.

An uneasy silence fell. Finally John turned to Aeryn. She smiled in what she hoped was a supportive, encouraging way. She suspected she failed miserably in her enterprise. She still found it hard to get what John would call ‘a handle’ on that sort of emotional dren. John took a deep breath.

“Scarrans and wormholes….” John stated. For once he too seemed lost for something to say.

“Not good.” Aeryn shook her head. More words seemed superfluous.

“Agreed.” John stated. She was grateful he felt the same way. They stared hard into each other’s eyes, each seeing a reflection of their own thoughts and fears in the other’s countenance. Scarrans, for both of them, had long standing and unpleasant associations with wormholes – hunting John for them, torturing Aeryn for them, trying to use them to enslave Earth and, of course, the terrible events at Quajaga. “We need to find out what they are up to.”

“Pilot,” Aeryn took a deep breath, hating herself for what she was about to ask, but knowing that it had to be and that it would be best coming from her rather than John. “We need to ask rather a large favour of you and Moya…..”

‘~’

“Engaging standard orbit,” Chief Petty Officer Miles O’Brien informed the bridge crew of the Defiant. His fingers danced across the controls as he brought them to a relative halt, 5000 kilometres from the planetoid mentioned on Dr Bashir’s – or was it Garak’s? - encrypted data chip. The helm was, by rights, Lt Commander Dax’s job, but she was busy in conference with the Captain, and so the job had fallen to O’Brien. Bearing in mind the delicacy of the mission, Captain Sisko had authorised use of the cloak, rendering the Defiant invisible. It was just as well that they had come in using the cloak considering the other vessels which were already in orbit around the planetoid when they had arrived.

En route Lieutenant Commander Eddington had informed the crew that the place had been the site of three small Maquis settlements, home to a mere 250 souls. What intelligence they had from the datachip indicated that, although the planetoid was still habitable, the Maquis were long gone, their presence likely ‘cleansed’ by the Cardassians and their allies.

O’Brien trimmed their position slightly, ensuring that they were in a stable and safe orbit. There was no sign that anyone had detected the Defiant’s arrival. However there was a small asteroid field a further 5000 kilometres out from the Defiant’s current position. Stray debris from the field had ensured that the planetoid had never been an ideal colonisation prospect but together the orbiting rocks provided some practical shelter from prying eyes.

“A good pilot could easily hide a ship in there,” Kira remarked apropos the asteroids. “Could even use the drifters as cover to approach the planet.”

Sisko grunted acknowledgement and shifted uncomfortably in the Captain’s chair. Even with the cloak engaged, he felt uneasy. They were deep inside hostile Cardassian territory with no back-up worth speaking of within a week of their position. In addition he was concerned by the ships which they had already detected in orbit barely 100 km above the planet. One was Cardassian, and one was of Dominion origin, but there was also a third ship. It was of an unknown design but large and shaped like some sort of dead spider. It kept close company with the two other hostile craft. That, presumably, was a Scarran ship- the name mentioned on Garak’s data chip. From this distance the unknown vessel looked impressive enough, although how capable and dangerous it was was all but impossible for the Defiant to tell without compromising their concealment.

“Suggestions? Anyone?” Sisko enquired, casting encouraging glances around the bridge. O’Brien avoided his eye. Major Kira frowned, broadcasting her frustration at not having an answer. Dax smirked nonchalantly and Eddington scowled from his console. “OK,” Sisko sighed, “Then perhaps we should…”

“Commander, there’s a small craft heading away from the planet at high velocity…. “ O’Brien exclaimed.

“Heading in this direction!” Eddington added and clarified in a low rumble.

“Being followed by one… two Jem’Hadar vessels….” Kira Nerys added.

“They…. The Jem’Hadar… are firing… On the smaller vessel!” Eddington supplied. “We ought to…”

“Can they tell if we’re here?” Sisko gripped the armrest of his seat. If these ships could somehow tell that the Defiant was there, despite her cloak, then they could be in real difficulty.

“They’re all heading towards the asteroid field, not us,” Kira continued as first the smaller craft then the larger sped by, mere kilometres from the Defiant’s position. “All three craft.” Sisko zoomed in on the image of the smaller ship as it passed. It was shaped like a small dart which combined with its black and red markings suggested ‘single seat military craft.’ Disturbingly, it was of a design completely unknown to him. Not Federation, Cardassian, Dominion or even Maquis. And not, by Sisko’s estimation, from the same design school as the other largely unknown and presumably Scarran craft, either.

“The enemy of my enemy…” Eddington remarked.

“Is oft times a trap,” Dax winked at him. He harrumphed in reply.

“Follow them into the field,” Sisko ordered. “But stay cloaked.”

Dax had already slipped into the pilot’s seat, relieving O’Brien at the helm. She quickly settled and confidently took them in, the dense field soon obscuring their view first of the alien vessels and then, after 20 seconds or so, even of the planetoid they were orbiting. Lightning-like flashes ahead of them lit up the field, the light showing it to comprise debris ranging in size from dust to rocks ten times the size of the Defiant.

A sudden orange flash, much bigger than all of the rest and clearly an explosion, flickered ahead of them for several seconds.

“Looks like the Jem’Hadar got their target…” Sisko muttered. It was a shame – he would have dearly liked to have talked to the occupant of the small, unknown craft they had been chasing – the pilot surely must have had useful intelligence regarding what was going on at the planetoid.

“No!” Major Nerys shook her head, not taking her eyes from the tactical display. “It was one of the Jem….” A second explosion, this one about 15 km off their port keel, momentarily lit up the field once again. “And that makes two.” By the time she finished speaking the bloom of both of the explosions had already faded.

Sisko arched an eyebrow. He was impressed, and, as realisation dawned, a little worried. It was fair to assume that the small, unidentified craft had led its two pursuers into the field, but then what? Where they following an exceptionally dangerous single craft or did the field hide a multitude of the stranger’s armed allies?

“Dead stop! All points scan!” Sisko ordered, his bridge crew springing into action, no doubt having made the same connections he had made.

“Benjamin, there’s something four clicks ahead!” Dax announced, wide eyes darting between the helm console, Sisko and the main viewscreen. She zoomed in and ahead of them one of the larger asteroids hove into clearer view.

“That’s no asteroid…..” Kira breathed, looking up from the tactical display to stare at the main screen. It was unmistakably a ship, long and graceful, bulbous at one end with three thin ‘tails’ at the other. It’s clean, flowing lines looked almost organic.

“That’s big,” Captain Sisko nodded to himself at the rightness of his words. The readout suggested it was maybe 1500 meters long – twice the size of a Galaxy class starship, and over a dozen times the size of the Defiant! He couldn’t conceive that a ship that size would not possess similarly scaled armament – had they destroyed the Jem’Hadar? If so, the defiant was likely in real danger. “That’s really big!” he gulped.


	2. Chapter Two

“There is no indication that they have detected us,” Eddington broke the long silence on the Defiant’s bridge. “Yet.”

“Or maybe we just don’t worry them?” Sisko muttered in reply. If he were on a ship that size, would he be concerned about the Defiant? They did destroy the two Jem’Hadar vessels. Or did they? Although, that said, the Jem’Hadar were chasing the small ship and firing on it. It was probably best not to act in a hostile manner until they knew more about these strangers.

“I am not detecting any weapons systems at all,” Eddington continued. Of course, that didn’t mean they didn’t have any, Sisko reminded himself, just that the Defiant couldn’t detect any. A worrying possibility.

“It is possible that they are friendly,” Dax lilted. “Harmless, even. I think maybe they’re using the asteroid field in order to hide from the Dominion forces.”

“That is a possibility,” Sisko drawled and gave a slight nod, stroking his chin with the fingers of one hand. He’d certainly like to believe it were true, given the other possibilities.

“There are… three, no, four maybe five life signs aboard,” Dax supplied. Sisko swivelled in his chair and shot her a questioning frown. She smiled disarmingly and shrugged. “It’s difficult. The ship itself is registering as a lifeform.”

“The ship!?” Sisko could tell his surprise was showing on his face. It didn’t do to look surprised when you were in charge, so he swiftly cleared his expression.

“Should I open a hailing frequency?”

“No, we can’t risk being overheard by the Cardassians and…. whoever. But we can’t just sit here waiting for enlightenment. We’ll beam aboard and talk to them face to face.”

‘~’

“Pilot!” Chiana yelped as she frantically dashed from console to console aboard Moya’s command. “That’s two explosions!” Chiana had been pleased when Pilot had told her that John and Aeryn were heading back from their reconnaissance mission. She’d been considerably less happy when Pilot had added that two unknown craft were chasing the Prowler and firing on them.

“Moya and I are well aware of how many explosions there have been!” Pilot’s projected image snarked back at her from the clamshell. Obviously he wasn’t taking it well either. “As yet we have been unable to determine what caused them…”

“Well, have ya tried, y’know ASKING John and Aeryn?” Chiana chirped.

“Need I remind you, Chiana, that both Commander Crichton and Officer Sun were explicit in their instructions to maintain communications silence!”

“Yeah, but that was before….”

“If they felt that the situation was sufficiently critical to merit breaking that silence, then I am confident that they would have called us!”

“Unless they couldn’t…” Chiana whispered. Pilot blinked slowly, twice and lowered his eyes.

“I… Moya and I have…. Every confidence….. in Officer Sun’s skills as a pilot,” he replied, his voice now quiet, soft and full of doubt. Chiana couldn’t help but notice that he had reverted to using Aeryn’s old, impersonal Peacekeeper name and rank, probably in order to protect his fragile composure.

Chiana nodded in acquiescence. Aeryn was a fine pilot. The best. It was a faith they both had to share, right up until the point, if it came to it, that they might be proven wrong, and then maybe a little longer even after that. Anything else was inconceivable to both of them. Chiana glanced down at John and Aeryn’s eighteen-monen-old narl playing at her feet: his raven hair and blue eyes a constant reminder to her of his parentage. Chiana was too young to adopt a narl. Aeryn and Crichton had better not have frelled things up this time. She needed them back.

“Chiana!” Pilot hissed. She glanced at the console – Pilot’s eyes were wide, shocked, concerned. Oh frell! Chiana thought. Brace yourself for the bad news! “One of my DRDs has just reported two strangers on your level, heading towards command! Moya and I have no idea how they got aboard!” 

Well, that was unexpected, Chiana conceded as she drew her small pistol and strode over towards Deke, her mind already weighing up which was the best hidden route off of Command. Within 5 microts, Deke cradled on her slim hip, she was already half way towards her choice of access duct. Just as she reached it a sound behind her caused her to turn her head. Frell! She was too late! Two figures stood in the doorway. A Sebacean-looking male and female. She aimed her pistol their way and fired a warning shot over their heads.

The man winced and visibly ducked his head. The woman seemed almost unconcerned, unflappable, like Aeryn would be if someone had shot at her and missed.

“On the ground and……. D. d. drop your weapons!” she screamed, trying to sound as commanding as Aeryn would, if only her friend had been there. Chiana knew, though, that the high tone of her voice, not to say her nervous inflection and expression gave her away. Outnumbered two to one. Aeryn’d murder her if she got Deke and herself killed.

Then, instead of drawing weapons and shooting back, to Chiana’s surprise the newcomers raised their hands, their open, empty palms forwards, just like John sometimes did.

The intruders exchanged glances, the meanings of which Chiana could not determine, then one of them began to speak.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” said the male Sebacean, his voice slow, deep and rich. It suited his deep brown skin tone. Chiana felt a tiny flutter of lustful curiosity, which she quickly pushed away. Now was not the time for such things. 

“We only want to talk,” added the female, who was tall, slim and dark haired, a bit like Aeryn. However, Chiana now realised, the woman had some sort of markings or tattoos down her neck. Also, instead of Aeryn’s semi-permanent scowl, this woman wore a semi-permanent amused grin, like she knew something really funny which no-one else was privy to. The tattooed woman had been staring, fascinated, at the holo-image of Pilot on the clamshell. Pilot had kept his own counsel and stared silently back, but now, Chiana noticed, he arched a questioning eyebrow ridge. ‘Tattoos’ laughed lightly and then turned her eyes to Chiana.

“Talk talk talk…. Must be humans!” Chiana mocked. “So…. Start talking!”

“Please, we didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman tried to placate.

“Well maybe you shoulda frelling called ahead!” Chiana snapped back. 

“We didn’t call ahead because we didn’t want to risk alert anyone who might have been listening,” the male explained, labouring over the point as though to ensure she understood. Hostile people were seldom so keen to explain things. Chiana imagined something in her body language or expression must have betrayed what she was thinking because the male beamed a broad smile. Like a male version of Aeryn it lit up his whole face, the room even. Chiana pushed down another lustful thought. He licked his lips and continued. “And I don’t reckon you’d have wanted us to alert certain people to your presence either, am I right?”

This time Chiana gave a shoulder shrug to signify that maybe he was right, but she couldn’t possibly comment. She had noticed that he had made quite a generalisation in his question, like a confidence trickster asking if anyone present had recently lost a relative or something similar. Chiana considered herself sufficiently street-wise not to be so easily duped.

“Captain Sisko?” A disembodied voice chirped from what Chiana immediately took to be a comms badge. 

“Secure frequency,” the male explained to Chiana with an apologetic shrug as he nodded towards then tapped the comms badge on his tunic. “Speaking?”

“Thought you’d want to know, the small craft we were following just docked with the vessel you’re aboard.”

“Acknowledged. Sisko out.” He tapped his badge. “So, the small black and red ship…. Friends? Or foes?” Sisko arched his eyebrow, addressing his question to Chiana. 

“Friends…. Of mine, anyhow.”

‘~’ 

Sisko decided the moment that they first walked into the room that the two newcomers looked a whole lot more business-like than the grey girl and the human looking toddler. Both were dressed in seriously aggressive black, mostly leather outfits the likes of which he had not seen outside of old fashioned science fiction movies. The man had a big, black pistol drawn and was waving it around imperiously, unlike the woman, whose empty hands brushed her sides. Not that the fact that the woman held no weapon made her look any less threatening: her clothes and long thick black hair were matched by an expression like stone and a big, black pistol holstered on her thigh within easy reach of one of those deceptively empty hands. Sisko had wondered ever since they’d entered this room how much of the crew were humanoid, what with the little yellow robot-like things and the silent, lobster-like creature that had been watching them from some sort of three dimensional view screen. It seemed they were not only mostly humanoid, but human, which was at least encouraging: No Cardassians, Vorta, Jem’Hadar…..

Time to play the diplomat, make these two more at ease. And find out more about them.

“I’m Captain Benjamin Sisko and this is Lieutenant Jadzia Dax of the United Federation of planets. Please accept our apologies for boarding you unannounced, but we were concerned to keep our presence here as discreet as possible.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the man dismissed his introduction with unexpected brusque casualness. “I’m Butch, this is Sundance. We’re kinda busy. Wadda you want?” The man’s accent was Earth, an old Southern-US drawl. The language was English. So thankfully, unlike for the grey girl, Sisko wouldn’t have to suffer the buzz of the universal translator in his ear, making sense of everything. Interesting, though, that this crew used multiple languages.

“Butch and Sundance?” Sisko couldn’t help himself from voicing his consternation and surprise. The raven-haired woman arched an eyebrow and almost seemed to give a knowing smile. Almost.

“You will have to excuse my husband his dramatic tendencies,” the woman remarked, her voice low and husky and far from apologetic. “But regardless. What are you doing aboard Moya?” She sounded English, perhaps cultured Australian, but something was just a little off in her pronunciation. Maybe English wasn’t her first language? Maybe she was from some long-sequestered colony? Maybe they were all Maquis sympathisers?

“Moya?” Sisko frowned, unfamiliar with the word. 

“Our ship. Moya.” The man, the self-styled Butch, explained, plonking himself on a seat and throwing his heavily-booted feet up on a nearby table with a flourish designed to communicate who was in charge here. His fingers drummed on the ostentatiously large black pistol, now resting on the table beside him. At least he wasn’t waving the gun around anymore, so that counted as an improvement. These two certainly came over as the sort of dangerous outlaws that befitted their chosen aliases – if aliases they were. Sisko could scarcely credit that they were really called what the man had claimed. 

“And… are you Maquis?” Sisko asked outright. The man frowned in confusion, inadvertently providing Sisko with a non-verbal answer to his question.

“Are you PKs? Coz I’m so unamused to find you playing with wormholes again…” The man made his statement sound like some sort of threat. “It’s a breach of the treaty….”

“PKs?” Dax frowned. “What…?” Sisko hushed her with a raised hand.

“Not PKs.I’m not even sure…. We were investigating….” Sisko paused, considering what to reveal and how to reveal it. After all, he knew nothing of these people or their sympathies. These two looked human, but they weren’t Federation and they kept fairly exotic company in their ship, the grey woman and the lobster on the holoscreen. None of it was exactly Maquis, but who were they, then? “Reports of a hostile presence in this area. Then we saw….. what I presume was you? The small red and black craft?” The woman, Sundance, nodded almost imperceptibly in confirmation. “Being pursued by two Jem’Hadar ships…”

“Jem Hadar?” The man interrupted. “Who’re they when they’re at home?” Interesting, thought Sisko, so he really isn’t from round here. Or maybe he’s leading me on to say something I shouldn’t? 

“Shh, John,” the woman admonished him. “Let the man finish.” Interestingly, he did so. Also interestingly it seemed he had a nice, normal human name: John. 

“They are…. Some of the people we are concerned about,” Sisko decided to venture in the hope of gaining something more himself – either trust or information, or perhaps just another informative reaction. “At the planet.”

“You got your troubles, I got mine,” the man called John crooned.

“We were more concerned with who these… Gem Hatars were meeting,” Sundance supplied. English definitely didn’t seem to be her first language.

“The funny, squid like ship?” Jadzia asked. “Who are they?” John and Sundance exchanged a dark look. Sundance straightened her shoulders, and looked Jadzia straight in the eye. Sisko’s breath hitched as he realised Sundance’s fingers had come to rest on the stock of her pistol. John seemed casually tense, ready to react in a second, fingers settling around the stock of his pistol like a gunfighter in an old movie.

“They are not friendly,” Sundance supplied after a tense few seconds, her tone and gaze a challenge. “They are called Scarrans.”

“Never heard of them,” Jadzia shrugged it off with her usual easy-going grin. Sisko could easily forgive her the small strategic lie – they needed as much information as these newcomers were willing to share.

“Unsurprising.” That was John speaking, his voice edged with a seriousness they had not yet heard him use. “You see, I’m guessing you’re locals, of sorts, right?” Sisko nodded. “Well, they came here through a wormhole.” 

“Ah!” Sisko exclaimed. Now it was he and Jadzia’s turn to exchange glances. “And presumably you did too?” Butch, or John, gave a non-committal shrug, but Sisko could see the truth in his eyes.

“The question we were wondering,” John continued, fixing his eyes on Sisko. “Was ‘why?’”

“I think it is fair to say,” Sisko replied in long, measured tones. “That we were wondering much the same. Perhaps we should share intelligence?”

“Well, we ought to do so quickly,” Sundance stated. “Or do something quickly, anyway. Those people back at the planet are going to start wondering what has happened to their two ships very soon.”

“Damn!” Sisko hissed, instantly seeing the truth of her words. They may even have taken too long already, chatting. The Dominion must be wondering what had happened to their ships by now. 

“Based on their normal procedures, they’ll probably send in more ships to investigate within the next ten minutes,” Dax confirmed, a frown for once displacing her near ever-present smile. “I can’t see them waiting any longer…”

“Actually,” Sundance interjected with considerable smug confidence. “I have a plan that might buy us some time. Then we can reconvene at a safe distance and have a long talk.”

“You’ve got a plan?” The man, John, asked in a disbelieving manner, the bite of his words completely softened by the broad grin he directed at her. 

“It’s my turn,” she pouted and laughed back. Obviously there was some sort of private joke the couple were sharing, but they didn’t seem inclined to share the details with anyone else.

“Just tell me it doesn’t involve anything painful or dangerous,” he chuckled with a trace of mock-horror.

“No!” She snorted back, somewhat ambiguously, with a wiggle of one of her bushy eyebrows. 

“Whatever!” John laughed harder and waved her off.

“Pilot, you’ve been listening, right?” Sundance addressed the lobster-creature on the clam shell monitor. 

“Indeed, Aeryn. How can Moya and I be of service?” The buzz in Sisko’s ear from the universal translator was unbearable: that was some freaky language the lobster was speaking in.

“Can you trim Moya’s sensor modulator to mimic the signature of one of these Gem Hatar ships?”

“I believe that should be possible…. One moment please.” Aeryn nodded and turned to address Sisko.

“Captain, can your ship mimic a transmission from a Gem Hatar ship?”

“Dax?” Sisko shrugged, deflecting the question.

“I believe that should be possible,” Dax replied to Sisko.

“Fine.” Aeryn gave a curt nod. 

Dax turned slightly to address Aeryn. “What exactly is it you have in mind to do?”

Aeryn cast her eyes around the assembly, locking their attention on her. “What we do is….”

‘~’

“There goes the….” Miles O’Brien paused for a moment. “What did you call it?”

“A Prowler,” Sisko informed him from the Captain’s chair. 

“Going at one quarter warp and accelerating.” 

“And there goes Moya,” Sisko added watching the huge yet graceful craft with evident pleasure and appreciation. “Old man, take us out of the asteroid field, keeping to within 200 metres of our new friend.” He stood, strode across to Dax’s console, made the briefest of checks over her shoulder, then on to Kira’s where he did similar. “And she’s doing a damn fine imitation of a Jem’Hadar ship on sensors!” Sisko rumbled appreciatively. He turned towards Dax once again. “Right, send the transmission. Kira,” he added, turning his head again. “Fire a few shots after the Prowler. And make sure you miss!”

Jadzia smiled and pressed the touch-screen display before her, sending the message back towards the planetoid while simultaneously relaying the terse tones, synthesised to sound like a Jem’Hadar warrior, across the Defiant’s bridge. Phaser blasts, their frequency and power attenuated to resemble those of a Jem’Hadar weapon, streaked away from them into the void, towards the Prowler.

“One ship lost in collision with asteroid,” the synthesised message was heard to recount, relayed across the Defiant’s bridge. “Unknown craft fleeing system. Heading off in pursuit. Out.” 

‘~’ 

To be continued….


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crews of the Defiant and Moya investigate the planet and make a significant discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to Vinegardog for the beta. I added a short new section in the rewrite specially for her…..

 

“Coffee?”

Aeryn Sun declined yet another cup full of the unspeakable, foul- and bitter-smelling hot beverage that everyone but her seemed to be consuming with great relish. Apart from her husband, there were four others crammed into a room less than half the size of a cell aboard Moya. The confined room reminded her of quarters aboard the Peacekeeper Command Carrier where she had been born and raised, but she had grown used to more spacious surroundings over the last few cycles. These people were so different from Peacekeepers, though. Their informality reminded her of her husband’s people. Could they really be humans? If so, this was a very different reality from the one she knew. Humans were, to her first-hand knowledge, effectively planet-bound.

Which could only mean that reality was on the blink again. Frell!

She allowed herself the indulgence of a heartfelt sigh before casting her eyes around the Defiant’s tiny briefing room. The dark skinned, hairless Captain, Sisko, the serious, tall woman with tattoo-like markings on her neck and the gaunt-looking man with receding hair called Eddington all seemed mostly harmless and human enough. All of them, from their uniforms, were part of the same military that operated the Defiant. The odd-one-out was the grey skinned male. He was neither human nor harmless nor, it seemed, affiliated with the Federation military. Quite why he was there Aeryn had as yet been unable to fathom, especially seeing as the others seemed to treat him with a degree of suspicion.

“So you are not actually at war?” Aeryn asked the assembly of Starfleet officers and the incongruous interloper. She frowned as, for the fourth time, she tried to clarify the local political situation.

“Not….  As such… no,” Sisko answered carefully, once again seeming reluctant to give a straight answer. “However….” He let the meaning of that word hang in the air. For all that she disliked the ambiguity, Aeryn had no trouble in understanding the concept: the Peacekeepers had not actually been formally at war with the Scarrans for decades prior to the confrontation which had ended at Quajaga, but that hadn’t stopped them from killing each other at every other opportunity which presented itself.  She forced a breath out loudly through her nostrils, nodded slowly and took a deep breath in. Humans: genetically unable to give a straight answer to a straight question. It seemed that ‘however’ was the best she was going to get, although she did notice that Eddington clenched his jaw ever so slightly at Sisko’s words. Over her cycles away from the Peacekeepers Aeryn had learned a little of how to read people. Her assessment was that the Lieutenant Commander didn’t entirely approve of some subtext of what Sisko had said, but as the more junior officer he felt unable to say. She resolved to try to get Eddington alone some time and probe deeper.

“And you’d rather whatever we do here doesn’t end up provoking these Cardassians and Dominions into a war, am I right?” John probed, leaning forwards and lacing his fingers on the tabletop as he waited for an answer. Her husband seemed to have no trouble with Sisko’s ambiguity. Typical!

“That would be the preferred outcome,” Sisko nodded again. “And it’s ‘The Dominion’. They aren’t a single species like the Cardassians.” John rocked his head to one side, conceding the correction without verbally admitting his mistake.

“Or end up provoking the Scarrans?” Aeryn added, determined to try to steer the conversation swiftly and efficiently back to the heart of the matter.

“Indeed not.”

“But all three groups are expansionist and aggressive….”

“And now perhaps allies?” Dax put in. “So, perhaps we should be asking: how does any potential new alliance benefit each of them?”

“Scarrans don’t play well with others,” John shook his head.

“But there must be something they want….?” That was Dax again.

“Slaves…?” Aeryn ventured aloud, hoping that someone on the Federation side might pick up on something that made sense, something which the Cardassians or the Dominion might be able to supply .

“Khalish,” John supplied the name of the race that the Scarrans had already enslaved in its entirety.

“Cannon-fodder…?“

“Charrids.”

“Crystherium…?”

“Crystherium?” Sisko questioned, before John could answer with another rebuttal.

“Bird of paradise…. Flowers….” John explained.

“Oh, do you mean Strelitza?” Dax asked, beaming with pride at her ability to act as a real, live encyclopaedia.

“Huh, yeah,” John confirmed with a frown. Dax tapped away on the screen in front of her and, with a final flourish from her fingers, a picture of a colourful flower appeared on the briefing room wall-screen. Aeryn recognized it instantly as the flower that they called Crystherium utilia in her part of space, the secret at the source of the Scarrans’ power. How could she ever forget what they looked like, after the events at Katratzi, when they had discovered and then destroyed the matriarch plant and the entire crop of flowers in that region of space?

“Huh… your side my side.” John nodded his head at the familiar sight. “It’s the little differences that keep reminding you not to go playing in wormholes…” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else present. He had that crazy gleam in his eye, the one that said he might unilaterally do something problematic. Aeryn hoped he wasn’t about to have another one of his ‘turns.’ That could really cause problems in their shaky alliance with these new humans.

“Sorry?” Sisko asked, trying to prompt some sort of explanation as to what was wrong with wormholes. John ignored the request. He seemed to have calmed down as swiftly as he had become agitated, fortunately.

“Scarrans need the flowers. Maybe that’s it? Maybe your people are supplying the Scarrans?” John sneered. Oh frell, Aeryn thought, here we go again….

“They’re not exactly ‘my people’,” Sisko gently protested.

“Whatever,” John dismissed the complaint with a wave of his hand. Aeryn noticed how Sisko’s nostrils flared in controlled irritation and not for the first time wished her husband would show a little more self-control.

“Hezmanna only knows what they’ve promised the Cardamoms in return,” John rambled on. “But my guess is, it won’t be good news for your folks.”

“We need to find out,” Sisko stated in slow, precise tones. “What they are up to…”

“Indeed,” Aeryn stated giving an earnest nod to emphasize how much she and John were aligned with Captain Sisko.

“You two…” Sisko fixed her with an earnest stare, the sort that announced something important was going to be said or asked. “Your crew… are the only people in the Alpha Quadrant who know anything about these Scarrans. Are you willing to help us?”

“That’s why we’re here: Find out why the big scary lizards went down the wormhole,” John expounded, as though it was all entirely obvious. “What you reckon, hon?”

Aeryn nodded. “Of course, Captain Sisko. It seems to be in both of our interests to cooperate. But we may not have much time. Whatever you have in mind, we should get started.”

‘~’

“Amazing!” Commander Crichton breathed, with what sounded to Kira Neris like almost childlike awe.

“Like the Traal’tix device, but on a much larger scale?” Captain Sun turned her head to the side to look at Crichton as she invited him to expand further on his assessment.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. Kira couldn’t see if any expression accompanied the gesture and single word reply, as she was standing a few paces behind them.

The Defiant had returned to the planetoid under cover of its cloak and was now in low orbit, invisible by both instrument and by naked eye to everyone else. The visitors had been keen to observe from the bridge: Kira had advised Sisko against it as they were just too much of an unknown risk, but Sisko had overruled her objections and asked them along anyway. Kira’s unease had been slightly alleviated, though, by the Captain asking her to stick close to the black-leather-clad couple and watch them carefully for any sign of nefarious behaviour. At least they’d be off the bridge soon: they were both due to beam down to the surface in ten minutes.

“I still think we should be in the same landing party,” Crichton turned to Sun to protest. She squared up to him.

“We’ve talked about this, John,” Sun looked a little peeved, as well she might. “It’s a reconnaissance mission. We’re the only people who know the Scarrans – our expertise would be most efficiently deployed….”

“Yeah, yeah, I get all that,” he interrupted. “But I don’t have to like it…”

“But you’ll do it?” Sun reached out to touch his elbow. “It’ll be fine. Worf and Eddington will be there to watch your back.” Crichton breathed out heavily and shook his head. He seemed far from pacified. “If I can do this, you can do this,” Sun insisted.

“Transporter room!” Sisko announced, standing from the Captain’s chair and starting for the door. Crichton sighed again and nodded: their discussion seemed at an end.

As the small knot of crew made their way from the bridge to the transporter room Sun seemed to position herself at the back of the group, walking beside Worf. Crichton was striding along, a nexus of energy at the front of the group alongside Captain Sisko, so Kira decided to hang back and shadow Sun: That way, she could at least see both of her charges.

“…you give me your word you will look after him?” Sun was whispering urgently to Worf.

“Honour demands I do no less…” Worf rumbled in reply, as though mildly affronted that she would even consider it necessary to ask such a thing.

“He has a tendency to attract trouble…”

“That much is self-evident,” Worf snorted with amusement. Sun chuckled at that reply. “But why would you ask…?”

“You remind me of an old friend…”

“I would like to meet…”

“He’s dead,” Sun shrugged in a matter of fact manner, as though such things were simply an accepted part of her life. Kira remembered what that was like – she had had to develop a similar attitude as a resistance fighter during the Cardassian occupation of Bajor. For the first time since they had met, Kira felt close to Sun.

 

‘~’

“Wow, that’s one freaky transport system, totally Scooby Doo!” John remarked once the dematerialisation process had completed. Everyone stared at him in incomprehension. John ignored the questioning, arched eyebrows: he was used to no one getting is references, although it hurt slightly that not even the other humans seemed to get what he was talking about.

“Ok, people let’s get going,” Captain Sisko commanded. “And remember. We’re here to gather intelligence, not to start a war!”

Much to the surprise of the Federation quartet, Sisko’s words were greeted by John pulling Aeryn into a tight embrace which, after a second or so, she reciprocated.

“Ahum!” Sisko loudly cleared his throat once the shock had worn off. He stared in disbelief at the openly kissing couple. “People!”he tried again.  John responded by breaking the kiss, but not the embrace. He ran his hand slowly through Aeryn’s long, sable hair, while she caressed his cheeks with her knuckles. They smiled longingly as they took a step back from each other, but still they didn’t break apart: their hands trailed down each other’s arms till their fingers laced together.

“Day’s a wasting,” Eddington smirked, his tone far from censorious. John shrugged as though accepting that he had to let go and then the couple stepped fully apart. With a final, longing look they turned to join their respective parties as they split into two groups of three and headed off in nearly opposite directions. Sisko had never seen anything before quite like it on a Federation mission.

“What are you smiling at, old man?” Sisko mock scolded Dax as they set off. She let out a guffaw in reply but said no more.

‘~’

As his party slowed to negotiate a small crevasse, John halted for a microt and cast one last, long look over his shoulder as Aeryn’s landing party passed out of sight behind a scrubby escarpment. He took a deep breath, leapt across the gap and hurried a few steps to catch up with Eddington and Worf.

“Looks a bit like Soledad Canyon,” John drawled to his two companions.

“Huh?” Eddington questioned him with a frown.

“It’s a place in California.”

“Can’t say I know it,” Eddington shrugged, po-faced, clearly uninterested in John’s line of conversation. Worf turned his head for a few microts and just frowned at John, his face giving little away. Clearly the rubber-forehead guy wasn’t familiar with the place either. Eddington took the lead and the path began to narrow and head upwards.  John decided to try another conversational tack, one they could all relate to.

“So, he reckons himself a bit of a ladies man, this Cap’n of yours?” John chuckled.

“I do not understand.” Worf halted and turned to stare at John. His massive frame blocked the narrow, natural rocky path they were now making their way along, causing John to stop walking, too.

“Y’know, arranging it so both the ladies are on his team….” John wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I can assure you that Jadzia has no sexual feelings regarding Captain Sisko!” Worf growled and his nostrils flared. John could see his words had touched a nerve. He’d gone and put his foot in it again. Whoops.

“Hey chill big guy… Just teasing. If I can be cool about my wife being off with him, you can too about your….  your what? Your girlfriend?”

“Hey, you two, keep up….” Eddington called from further up ahead, near the brow of the incline they were walking up. “And can we lose the chit-chat before someone hears us?” he added with evident irritation.

“No hard feelings, big guy?” John held out his hand to Worf, hoping the other male would take it and they could put their misunderstanding to bed. Worf seemed to consider the matter for a second, then nodded abruptly and took John’s hand in a firm, but not crushing grip.

‘~’

“So, what exactly is your relationship with your military?” Sisko asked Aeryn. “The Peacekeepers, isn’t that what you called them?”

The landing party had stopped for a few microts in order to drink from their canteens and for the two Starfleet officers to take readings on the small, handheld devices they called tricorders. 

Aeryn took a deep breath while she considered quite what to say. “I’m retired…  John and I do some consultancy for them… since the war with the Scarrans….” She didn’t exactly want to tell them how she had actually deserted the Peacekeepers when her commanding officer had sentenced her to death for spending time with John. Neither did she want to tell them how, after years of being chased by both Peacekeepers and Scarrans, John had used an apocalyptic wormhole weapon to force the warring sides to the peace table and agree to stop hunting them. 

“Consultancy?” Sisko probed. Aeryn bit her lip, wondering how to avoid revealing information that might lead to difficult questions.

“You will…  have to excuse me…  I struggle with English,” Aeryn tried to deflect the question. “We helped to….  Negotiate the peace.”

“Give Aeryn a break, Ben,” Dax butted in jovially, coming to Aeryn’s rescue. “How did you two meet? There must be a story in there?” Aeryn beamed a grateful smile at Dax.

“It was the same day he came through the wormhole from Earth. We’d both been captured and put in the same cell…..” Aeryn began, warming to her subject.

“You catch more flies with honey….” Aeryn thought she heard Dax remark to Sisko. She’d have to ask John what that meant later, if it meant anything at all.

“This way,” Dax added, using her tricorder to wave in the direction they should go next. “A cell? That sounds terrifying.” She continued, her sympathetic manner encouraging Aeryn to elaborate.

“Not really. John stole a…  a fork? Is that the word?” Dax nodded. “We used it to open the cell door and then…”

Sisko fell in behind the two women, although Aeryn was almost sure she heard some sort of chuckle coming from him as he did so.

‘~’

Crichton, Worf and Eddington lay side by side under cover of the ridgeline, united in having their attentions directed at the small encampment maybe half a kilometre away in the valley.

“So is that a Scarran?” Worf asked in what for him passed for a whisper. “They don’t look that impressive.”

“No, that’s a Kalish,” John supplied. “Sort of slaves cum collaborators. And that’s a Cardassian he’s talking to, yeah?”

“S’right,” Eddington confirmed, not removing the binoculars from his eyes.

“So that guy up on you ship, Garrick? He’s one of them?”

“Hmm.” Worf confirmed.

“He’s the one who supplied the information which brought us here,” Eddington explained.

“Jeez, and that doesn’t WORRY you?” John struggled to keep his voice down.

“A little…” Eddington conceded with a nod. “But what else could we…”

“There!” John interrupted as a huge, bipedal creature, accompanied by another of the orange-tinted Kalish and a third, almost human figure, emerged from one of the abandoned Maquis buildings which formed the skeleton of the encampment.  “That’s a Scarran. A high caste one, too. Big cheese. The lower caste ones have these sort of elongated heads…”

“And the other, the one, with them, he is a Vorta!” Worf added.

“Are you thirsty?” John remarked. Two pairs of uncomprehending eyes turned to frown at him. “Never mind,” he shrugged it away. “So, looks like all the gang’s here and what’s more they ain’t killing each other yet. Question is why.”

“And the answer?” Worf growled.

“Frelled if I know…” John admitted with a defeated tone, slowly shaking his head.

‘~’

“Flowers…?” Sisko shook his head slowly. “So it really is about flowers…?” Aeryn gave a grim half-smile and nodded.

They were crouched at the edge of a rolling field of the blooms, maybe 100 motras across, which filled a small valley, hemmed on all sides by low, rolling hills. Aeryn had initially been surprised that there had been no sign of any guards, but then, why would there be? Why draw attention to something that would seem to have no value to the uninformed passer-by?

“Strelitza regina, just like your husband said,” Dax added, running a tricorder across the nearest orange-tinged flower before plucking it and placing it in a sample box. “So, the Dominion plan on supplying them to the Scarrans, but what are the Dominion getting? What’s the big deal?”

 “Soldiers or weapons or both,” Aeryn replied, biting her lip. “What would your Dominion want with those?” Aeryn asked, although she already knew the likely answer. From his involuntary shudder and the worried look on his face, it was clear to her that Sisko most likely knew the answer, too.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some technobabble. Well, it would hardly be Star Trek without some. ;) Oh, and some treachery, too, because it wouldn’t be Farscape without some of that.

** Chapter Four: **

“The medical records and tissue samples of your former shipmate, Scorp wasn’t it? Unusual name. Well. They were most useful,” Dr Bashir beamed as he addressed Captain Sun in the Defiant’s small and crowded sick bay. He was excited and proud and really rather full of himself. It was showing and he didn’t mind that it was. No point in hiding your light under a bushel, after all.

“Always knew we’d find a use for that sonofabitch someday,” Commander Crichton muttered.

“John!” Sun warned and shot her husband a truly scary, dark look which in Bashir’s opinion would have caused a lesser man to wither where he stood. Crichton seemed unphased. He merely started toying with a hypospray lying on one of the workstations. Dax shot him a disapproving glance. Crichton ignored her.

“Umm,” Bashir coughed and gave a little grin, part unease, part sympathy, part embarrassment as attention returned to him. “Of course, it wasn’t easy, especially as he was only half-Scarran, but I got there eventually…”

“Got where…. doctor?” Sun asked. She seemed to have trouble with the word ‘doctor’, like it was unfamiliar to her. Well, English wasn’t her first language, but surely there must be some sort of analogue of the concept of doctors where she came from?

“Well, you see the flower contains a unique phenalenone…” Julian began to allow himself to be swept away once more by his own brilliance.

“Phenalenone?” That was Captain Sisko, interrupting his flow. Julian took a deep breath, preparing to indulge his audience as he might do with a class of children.

“They’re rather interesting biological compounds: aromatic ketones which photosensitize singlet molecular oxygen…” Someone stifled a cough. An almost desperate, haunted look came over Captain Sun’s features, as though she’d suddenly rather be anywhere else but here. Typical military type.

Bashir paused as realised she wasn’t alone in her reaction. He took in the wall of blank faces around him. He had a rare moment of self-awareness.  ”I’m boring you all, aren’t I?”

“Not at all,” Sisko insisted, a lone voice of encouragement.

“Is this that ‘technobabble’ thing?” Aeryn Sun whispered in her husband’s ear in her own tongue, perhaps forgetting about the Federation’s universal translator. Crichton nodded in confirmation.

“Hang in there, babe,” Crichton breathed in encouragement.

“I see, Dr Bashir,” She nodded with charming naivety which fooled him not one jot, before flashing Bashir an indulgently encouraging smile.

“Just cut to the chase, doctor,” Sisko advised, most likely trying to save Julian any further embarrassment.

“Ok, umm, well you see, the phenalenone in the flower seems to produce a crucial intermediary in one of the Scarrans’ signature biochemical neural pathways…” Someone let out a groan.

“Meaning…?” Sisko encouraged with a gentle nod of his head and a wave of his hand.

“Essentially, they eat it and it helps make them smarter,” Dax usefully summarized.

“Exactly!” Julian confirmed, flashing Jadzia what he hoped would be taken as a grateful smile.

“We already knew that,” John stated, leaning back heavily on a biobed and crossing his arms, the hypospray now abandoned back on the workstation.

“Ah!” Julian beamed in triumph and raised a single finger. “But you didn’t know why it made them smarter, did you?”

“True,” Aeryn nodded. The look on her face said that she thought Julian had a point, even if her husband was too proud to admit his ignorance.

“OK,” Crichton sighed, seeming to roll a crick out of his neck. “That’s very nice. But how does it help us?”

“Ah, well, I’m glad you asked that. Because I’ve been able to deduce that a single point mutation in the right gene would lead to a different phenalenone being produced, which in turn would block that neural pathway…..!” He concluded triumphantly. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. He expected everyone would be full of appreciation later in the mess. Someone would buy him a drink, maybe two. They’d praise the speed with which he managed….

“So, it’d be a toxin?” Crichton enquired, breaking Julian’s train of thought. Julian forgave him, though because Crichton, at least, seemed to be showing signs of being impressed. Bashir deliberated for a few seconds, trying to decide whether to elaborate on such a simplistic assessment. He looked at the wall of expectant faces around him. Jadzia smiled encouragingly. Ben seemed to give an almost imperceptible nod, his encouraging, blinking eyes seeming to almost shout at Bashir that he should answer in the affirmative.

“Essentially, yes.” Bashir half-reluctantly conceded. Why did everyone want things to be made so simple, even when they weren’t? Couldn’t they see the elegance in the complexity…?

“Ouch,” John remarked. “So, you reckon that’d fry the bastards’ brains?”

“Umm, somewhat crudely put, but essentially true….”

“Which is, again, nice to know, but…..” Sisko seemed strangely hostile, although Julian could not yet imagine why.

“And what’s more we can deliver it using a modified baculovirus vector, using the indigenous insects of the planet… “ Bashir blurted out, almost child-like in his need to show just how clever he had been in figuring everything out.

There was a long silence. “Are you suggesting,” Sisko’s tones were slow, low, almost warning. “That we use biological warfare against a species that the Federation hasn’t even officially met yet?”  Yes, those tones definitely seemed to hold a warning. Bashir flashed the captain a momentary nervous grin while he tried to process this new development. “Because Starfleet would never…”

“You don’t want the Scarrans in your galaxy, and you sure as hell don’t want them here as friends of these Cardassians and Dominions,” John Crichton stated flatly, unexpectedly intervening to support Julian: Crichton’s countenance visibly darkened as he turned slightly towards Captain Sisko. “Trust me. You don’t owe them lizards nothin’.”

Captain Sun nodded gravely in support of her husband’s assertions.

“I would have to agree with Commander Crichton’s somewhat colourful assessment,” Garak remarked, breaking his long silence. Julian had scarcely even registered that the Cardassian was even present in the sick bay before he had spoken. Garak was quite good at remaining unnoticed when he chose to be. “And I would imagine that a similar assessment would apply regarding a Scarran-Cardassian alliance and the people in Captain Sun’s galaxy also?”

“You betcha,” John nodded his enthusiastic yet still grim support. “Scarrans ain’t nothin’ but bad news, wrapped in bullet-proof coat.”

“Nevertheless,” Sisko interjected, asserting his authority as captain of the Defiant. “As Starfleet officers, we cannot….”

“But I can, Captain,” it was Aeryn Sun squaring up to Sisko now, one captain to another. “Look, it’s very simple,” she added with a sigh, trying to row back on the confrontation, but still apparently determined to get her way. “We make the plants on that planet toxic to Scarrans, but we do it in secret. A few Scarrans here may die, hopefully along with the alliance between them and your enemies, and then everyone gets what they want. Except our enemies.”

“How can you be so…?” Dax began, obviously shocked by Aeryn’s attitude.

“No.” Sisko stated flatly, shaking his head before Aeryn could respond. ”A pre-emptive attack with such a weapon would simply be unacceptable to the Federation.”

“But….” John began to protest.

“No.” Sisko had seldom scowled so unhappily. Bashir appreciated that no captain liked their authority questioned, especially not on their own ship. John and Aeryn exchanged a silent glance, but seemed to take Sisko’s word as final and remained silent.

‘~’

“Fascinating!” Garak turned the fiery gemstone over and over, seemingly enjoying each of its many reflective facets, just as he had been appreciative of everything Chiana had shown him and told him over their lunch in the Defiant’s galley. “I can honestly say that I don’t think I have ever seen anything quite like it.”

“Got it on a little planet we did a cargo run to two monens ago,” Chiana told him, letting his appreciation of the sparkling facets feed her own enthusiasm. “I got bags of them back on Moya. I remember Aeryn asking me why I wanted them….  She’s never been the type to see… ”

“How is Captain Sun?” Garak asked, his voice and face now all casual concern. “She seemed in quite a black mood when she returned to your ship last night.”

“She’s still pretty pissed, but I reckon she’ll get over it.”

“But they went straight back to Moya and didn’t participate in the landing parties….” Aeryn and John had returned to Moya shortly after the argument in the medical bay the previous evening. When, an hour later, the Defiant had made a third trip to the planetoid to beam down a six-person surveillance party, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Eddington, John and Aeryn had remained on Moya throughout, barely communicating with the Starfleet vessel.

“They’ve got a narl, you know. And they need some sleep. There’s only the three of us, and Pilot, aboard Moya.”

“I see,” Garak nodded.

“It’s not like over here – you got loads of people.”

“But she did seem really rather angry about…. “ Garak paused, watched and waited to see whether Chiana would betray that she knew what Sun and Crichton might be so angry about. He decided that, whether through ignorance, loyalty or discretion, she would not. “Something.” He concluded. 

“Don’t worry, she’s not like John. Not likely to do anything rash, no matter how much she hates the Scarrans. And John won’t do anything without Aeryn agreeing,” Chiana blinked, rolled her eyes and bit her lip, as though perhaps she was uncertain about the veracity of her last assertion.

“She hates them?” Garak filed the uncorroborated insight for future reference. “I can understand being wary, but…?”

“Yeah…  I guess you don’t know?” Garak shook his head. Chiana glanced around her and leaned in conspiratorially. “It was two cycles…. Years ago. They kidnapped and tortured her. It was when she was carrying Deke… They were going to kill her, experiment on Deke. It was a close thing. We almost didn’t get her back…”

“I see,” Garak nodded, eyes full of understanding. He reached into his trouser pocket and then withdrew his hand, curled into a fist. “That must have been terrible for her.”

“She doesn’t talk about it much. Not her way. John, on the other hand….” Garak laughed the laugh of a co-conspirator, sharing an inside joke. As well he might: John Crichton’s verbosity was becoming common knowledge even aboard the Defiant. “Can’t shut him up…” they both continued to laugh and smile at the shared joke.

“Here,” Garak pressed something into Chiana’s palm, folding her fingers over it and patting her hand closed before she, or anyone else, could look and see what it was. “It’s just a trifle. But please see that it gets to Aeryn. It’s just a small token of my heartfelt sympathies towards her.”

‘~’

John finally caught up with Aeryn in one of Moya’s cavernous docking bays. The canopy on her Prowler was open and he could hear the sound of metal banging on metal coming from within. He moved closer and caught sight of something moving within the cockpit, something which could only be Aeryn.

“Hey!” He called out to her shoulders, the only part of her that was visible above the line of the open cockpit, while rocking young D’Argo to and fro on his hip to keep their young son happily quiet. They had important stuff to discuss – he didn’t want to get side tracked by the infant and his demands.

She seemed to freeze as, in response to his greeting, she stopped doing whatever she was doing. John suspected that whatever it was it was a displacement activity, to work off her tensions, rather than real maintenance, but with Aeryn you could never be sure. Slowly she straightened up and, with a sigh, turned to face John. She didn’t look happy. Her hand, smeared with black lubricant, gripped the edge of the cockpit.

“Hey,” she replied. John smiled at her in response to their long-standing private joke, earning him the slightest hint of a smile in return from her. His relief was palpable: if she was willing to play like that then maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as he had feared.

“Watcha doin’?” He asked, still rocking D’Argo. He allowed the infant to snag and squeeze a finger, keeping him distracted.

“Just checking all the systems are good. For when we go back to the planet.”

“You really thinking of doing that?” John ventured. Aeryn always appreciated a direct approach, and she always appreciated him not impinging on her agency, her freedom to choose her own path in life. “In the Prowler?”

Aeryn shrugged. “It’s why we’re here. To find out what the Scarrans are up to and stop them….”

“And risk the kid losing his parents?” John inclined his head to indicate their son. It was harsh, but it needed said. Actions had consequences. “Maybe we should leave it to these Federation people and their magic invisibility cloak?”

Aeryn blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. All trace of a smile was now gone. “It doesn’t seem to me like they’re going to do anything. Just watching and talking.”

“I know, I know, babe. But they’ve got the tech, the guns, the people… all the toys. Would it really hurt to give ‘em a few days, see what they come up with?”

She was silent for a few seconds. She averted her eyes towards the Prowler’s instrument panel, as though seeking her answers there. Maybe she was? For most of her life she had got all her answers from the readouts provided by her ships. “And what do you propose we do in the meantime, John?” She asked, eyes still locked on the instruments. She seemed to be on the verge of conceding his point, though, even if she wasn’t happy about it. It was probably time to throw her a bone.

“Well, you could check out the Prowler, make sure all the systems are 100%. You know, just in case.” She turned to look at him, frowning slightly. He winked at her and she laughed back before half-heartedly throwing a tool at him. It must have been a half-hearted throw, he surmised, as it came no-where near hitting him.

‘~’

Lieutenant Commander Eddington was tired and just a little frustrated. His team had been down on the planet for over a day now, observing this new, unholy alliance between the Cardassians, the Dominion and the Scarrans, trying to determine from afar what they were up to. Whatever the details turned out to be, Eddington surmised, they would not bode well for humans and their allies.

First there had been the Cardassians then the Dominion and now the Scarrans and their Kalish servants: they were a coalition that threatened not just the Maquis colonies, but the whole Federation. Eddington didn’t need detailed intelligence to understand that it would be folly to allow such a threat to grow and consolidate unchallenged. And yet, if the Federation were seen to act, even if they were merely perceived to have acted, that could precipitate an all-out war, a war that the Federation was unlikely to win. That was why the presence of the landing parties had to remain a secret. Every hour, every minute that they spent here they risked discovery. It wouldn’t do.

So it was that he had just spent half an hour watching as a team of Cardassian technicians and a couple of the red-skinned and –haired humanoids Sun and Crichton called Kalish conduct a little light gardening. All he had learnt was that the field of flowers was no accident or coincidence and that for the third time in a day and a half, they were taking about half a dozen flowers back to their camp. Oh, and also that he, Michael Eddington, didn’t rate gardening much as a spectator sport.

There was very little more that they could learn from careful, distant observation of the type that he had been sent to perform. They had no one on the inside to tell them what was really going on. All they had to go on, other than their prior experiences of the Dominion and more significantly the Cardassians, were visual sightings, the testimony of the crew of Moya and the existence of a field of cultivated flowers. It would have to be enough. Captain Sisko and Starfleet weren’t going to get much more information, no matter how long Eddington and his team hid out down here, watching for clues.

Eddington sighed, turned off his binoculars and crawled back down towards where the rest of his team were waiting. In his opinion, the time for observation and introspection was over: it was long past time to get on with something more proactive. How fortunate it was, then, that someone had already begun to implement a plan.

‘~’

“What is it, doctor?” Sisko ran his hand over his head, a residual gesture from when he once had a head of hair many years before, which emerged because he was still sleepy. He was sleepy because an urgent call from Dr Bashir had raised him from his cot an hour before he had been due to wake up. Sisko kept his voice even-toned and non-judgemental, however. Such was the lot of the captain, after all. Being woken from sleep by his lieutenants was what Starfleet paid him for.

“They’re gone!” Julian backed away into the sickbay, allowing Sisko more room to venture inside. Dr Bashir seemed almost beside himself, a bundle of nervous, anxious energy as he bounced around sick bay, gesticulating madly, running his hands through his hair.

“What’s gone?” Sisko asked with as much calm as he could muster.

“The vials, they’re gone!” Bashir waved extravagantly at one of the walls of the sick bay, as though that explained everything.

“Slow down,” Sisko asked, raising his hands to either side of his head. “And start again from the top.”

Bashir pulled on a thick glove and opened a door in the wall, and a slight cloud of cooled air billowed out. “I made six vials of the Strelitza virus,” Bashir reached in and pulled out a small, white box. “I froze three of them in here and the other three of them in a separate freezer. Look!” He lifted the lid of the box. A single, tiny plastic bottle nestled within, inside a further, transparent box, despite there clearly being space for plenty of other bottles in the empty spaces around it.

“Are you sure?” Sisko asked. His heart was sinking almost as fast as his mind was processing the information and coming to terms with its implications. But whatever, he was the captain. He had to make sure of the facts before they took this further.

“Of course I’m blood….. “ Bashir’s voice was rising, his manner almost hysterical. “Yes, yes, Captain. I am absolutely sure!” He slammed the lid back on the box. “Someone has stolen the virus!”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some mysteries are solved. And others are not.

 

**Chapter Five:**

“If you wanted to conduct a search I think we’d be quite within our rights,” Kira Nerys informed Sisko. “And there are effectively only three crew aboard:  it couldn’t be that hard to take them into custody.” He remembered the way Sun and Crichton had looked when he had first met them and again when they had been denied the virus, and he remembered how Sun had despatched the two Jem’Hadar attack ships chasing her. He wasn’t so confident in Kira’s assessment of the ease with which they could be taken into custody. He shifted slightly: he’d never really found the chair in his tiny ready room that comfortable. His physical discomfort was being exacerbated by the difficult, but necessary conversation with Major Nerys regarding what to do about the missing vials of virus. 

“Maybe, but if we do anything like that, we can kiss goodbye to future good relations with them.”

“I agree,” Kira nodded in agreement. Of course she would have considered that. She was simply doing her job – letting the captain know the options open to him and acting as a sounding board.

“Anyway, it’s a big ship, a really big ship. If those vials are aboard, it’d be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

“Which would bring us back to square one.” Nerys voiced his own thoughts. “Except now we wouldn’t be on friendly terms with them.”

“Exactly!”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“Talk…” As he opened the screen in front of him he flashed her one of his more playful grins. “Apparently, it’s all that humans are good at.” Sisko was relieved to hear Nerys laugh at his self-deferential jibe: After the events of the last thirty minutes or so, it helped him let off some much needed steam, too. She nodded in agreement. “Computer, put me through to Moya, please, secure channel.”

The grey face of Moya’s gigantic, symbiotic pilot appeared on the screen.

“Yes? How may I be of assistance, Captain Sisko?” the creature simply called Pilot asked. Sisko was used to dealing with aliens, but there was something about Pilot that was just off-putting.  Sisko suspected that it was the creature’s slight, barely hidden air of superiority, as though he regarded almost everyone else as merely troublesome children. Well, almost everyone else – Sisko had witnessed him interact with Captain Sun on far more even terms. The impression that Pilot projected, that he was so much smarter than everyone else, was heightened by the fact that he insisted that his real name would be too complicated for any of them to use, hence his designation simply as Pilot.

“Ah, thank you….  Something important has come up over here and we were wondering if we could talk to Captain Sun?”

“One moment please, I will see if she is available…” After a few seconds the view on the screen shifted to what appeared, from the background ephemera, to be personal quarters. Otherwise, Sun’s head and shoulders filled the screen. She was dressed in what looked like a washed out grey T-shirt, while a mop of unruly hair and tired eyes spoke of a difficult night.

“My apologies, Captain, I didn’t realise you’d be asleep.” Sisko soothed.

“I’ve been up for a while,” Sun sighed and pulled her long hair back, securing it in a loose tail behind her head. “My son is…. Teething.” She seemed to have been searching for the right word to use. Sisko could make out the distant cries of an infant, adding authenticity to her declaration.

“My sympathies, from one parent to another,” he smiled. She nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement. Pleasantries out of the way he took a deep breath and launched into the purpose of his call: “Umm, there’ve been some rather disturbing developments overnight. I wonder if you and Commander Crichton could beam over….?”

“What sort of developments?” Sun enquired, now seemingly fully alert and engaged. She was military through and through.

“Probably best if we save the details till you get over here…” Sisko obfuscated. Sun arched an eyebrow.

“Fine. Can you give us… thirty….” She paused: whether she was considering how much time she needed or what words to use, Sisko was unsure.  “Hmmm.  Minutes to get ready?”

Sisko nodded. “Call us when you’re ready to beam over.”

‘~’

“Are you accusing us of stealing your precious virus!?” John seemed on the point of exploding with righteous anger. That would have been unfortunate, especially considering how they were deep inside the Defiant, ensconced in the conference room with Sisko and a handful of his crew.

“John,” Aeryn soothed, laying what she hoped was a calming hand on his forearm. For all of the calmness she projected, Aeryn was half-grateful for his barely controlled emotional outburst. His anger served as a safety-valve to release some of her own fury, enabling her to better control herself.

“No one is accusing you of anything,” Sisko held up his hands in the gesture that Aeryn recognised as being one which humans used when they wanted to calm a tense situation.

“Well, that’s what it sounds like…” John rumbled on.

“But the fact remains that two vials have gone missing, and you have clearly expressed the opinion that this weapon should be used against the Scarrans.” Sisko stated.

“And I still hold to that view.”Aeryn replied as calmly as she could manage. “But the fact is that it would be pointless for us to take these vials from your ship and then not take them to the planet to use them, wouldn't it?”

“We’ve all been over there, on our ship, ever since Dr Bashir told us about the virus thing,” John added. “You’re the only people to have been to the planet since…”

“You might have gone when we were away dropping off the landing party…” suggested some junior Starfleet officer whose name Aeryn did not remember.

“What, you think we sneaked over there in our big-ass, not-at-all-invisible ship, with neither you nor the Cardawhotsit Imperium spotting us?” John verbally slapped the young man down. “Gimme a break!” 

“And besides, how were we supposed to have gained access to your sick bay without you noticing?” Aeryn followed up.

“Nah. Must have been one of your people. Occam’s razor.” John insisted, nodding heartily. “But if you find out who it is, I’ll buy ‘em a beer.”

“How can you be so blasé about using a biological weapon? It’s tantamount to genocide, and we’re not even at war?” Jadzia Dax seemed somewhat upset. “You’re not even at war!” she added for good measure.

“Jadzia,” Aeryn responded with equal, barely controlled rage.  “The Scarrans kidnapped me and tortured me. They wanted to rip my child out of my belly and experiment on it. They tried to enslave my whole galaxy, and they would do so again if they thought they might succeed. They would do it to your people without a microt’s hesitation. As a trade-off to keep my people safe…  to keep your people safe… I’m not only happy to poison these plants. It is my duty to do so.”

“We’re never going to see eye to eye, are we?” Sisko enquired wearily.

“Nope.” John Crichton confirmed. “But for what it’s worth, we didn’t steal no damn virus.”

‘~’

It had been an interesting second day for the Defiant’s landing party: Ensign Fox had returned from his stint observing the aliens’ camp to report that the Kalish, the Scarrans’ sidekicks, had been acting in a most agitated manner, rushing around, arguing and so forth. There were two Scarrans known to be on the surface, from previous observations, and neither had been seen by Fox until just before noon, when an almighty commotion had broken out in the aliens’ camp. Eddington had decided to go and observe personally: Fox had been right, although no one had been able to ascertain what the reason for the disturbances might be.

Eddington was relieved by Lieutenant De Veres at around 4 pm and returned to learn that the Kalish had gathered another crop of flowers from the plantation just after 3 pm. At 6 pm Ensign Ro reported back that the commotion at the aliens’ camp had resumed with renewed vigour.  By nightfall, angry shouts were heard even at the Starfleet base of operations.

Matters degenerated further overnight, with sporadic screams and sounds of weapons being discharged. Their base of operations was too close if things were getting so heated. Eddington withdrew the landing party to a safe distance of nearly two kilometres and doubled their watches: the last thing he wanted was for his people to be caught up in whatever was happening.

When morning came, Eddington undertook a solo reconnaissance to see what he could learn of the events of the previous night. Several bodies, representing all the alien species in the camp, could be seen scattered around. The Cardassians and Jem’Hadar seemed to have re-established peaceful control over the camp, but at quite some cost.

Violence, chaos and disorder. Eddington smiled to himself. His work here was done. Time to get everyone away before they were spotted, before they could give the Cardassians, Dominion and Scarrans someone to blame events on. Far better they continued to blame each other. He dropped the vial which had contained Bashir’s bioweapon on the ground, set his phaser to the lowest setting which would have the desired effect and vapourised it. Then he pulled out his communicator and activated the encoded, secure signal which would tell the Defiant to come and retrieve the reconnaissance parties.

‘~’

Sisko rubbed his eyes and wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. The meeting with Sun and Crichton hadn’t exactly gone to plan: tempers had frayed, relationships had been strained and yet they were no further forward towards learning who had taken the two vials from the sickbay nor what the thief or thieves had done with them. Neither were they any further forward in learning what the Dominion, Cardassians and Scarrans were up to and what, if anything, they should do to stop them.

“Captain Sisko!” Major Kira’s voice spilled from his communicator badge. He tapped the patch on his shoulder instinctively to respond.

“Yes, what is it?”

“I think you should come to the bridge, sir!” It must be urgent for her to talk like that.

“I’ll be right there!” Sisko stood and made for the door of his ready room. Seconds later, he was on the bridge, relieving Major Kira from her place in the Big Seat.

“We’re detecting sporadic, large energy signatures coming from the direction of the planet,” she informed him as she headed for the tactical station.

“Could be weapons fire?” the lieutenant at tactical suggested before making way for Major Nerys. Sisko quickly checked the readouts on the arm of his chair, caught the young, now standing officer’s eye and nodded his agreement.

“If there’s fighting breaking out, we need to get our people out of harm’s way. And learn what’s going on down there.”  Sisko floated his train of thought out across the bridge like fishing bait, to see how his team responded, to gather their opinions and input.

“If the Scarrans and Dominion are firing on each other, we ought to get closer and observe,” Major Nerys added, supporting the plan of action he was already formulating.

“Agreed. Get Sun and Crichton over here: their insights might be useful. Then take us in, but carefully, with the cloak engaged.”

The next couple of minutes were tense aboard the bridge as the Defiant swiftly closed in on the planet.

“I’m detecting a transmission sir.” Dax announced. “I believe it’s in…. Scarran.” At that moment the door opened and Captain Sun and Commander Crichton, accompanied by a detail from security, strode onto the bridge, having made their way up from the transporter bay.

“It is,” Sun confirmed. “But that is a Kalish speaking, not a Scarran. They’re reporting that the Chrystherium were poisoned and that the Dominion turned hostile when confronted with the evidence. They are recommending no further diplomatic excursions through the wormhole.”

“Way to go!” Crichton crowed. Everyone ignored him, including, seemingly, Captain Sun.

“Prepare to beam up the landing parties.” Sisko ordered as they approached what he estimated to be transporter range. There was no sense in keeping them on the surface, especially not now that people were shooting at each other. Far better to return later and see what they could learn, when tensions had died down a little. When there was less chance of being discovered or shot at.

No sooner had the words left Sisko’s mouth than an angry, orange, white and black explosion flared in low orbit in front of them, the flames dying almost as soon as they formed as the material feeding them dispersed in the vacuum of space.

“Report!” Sisko barked.

“That was a Jem’Hadar ship,“ Nerys reported, not looking up from her console. “Sensors reading two more Dominion craft, two Cardassian and one Scarran vessel. All with weapons damage.” Sisko didn’t need a report from Nerys to know that there was weapons fire, too: They could all see that with their own eyes simply by looking at the big screen at the front of the bridge.

“Transporter room reports our landing party is on board, sir – no casualties,” Dax reported. Sisko spared her a swift, grateful nod of acknowledgement.

By now they had approached close enough that they could see the other craft in some detail through the main viewscreen: The Scarran ship, resembling nothing if not a dead spider, seemed to have taken the heaviest damage, but was still manoeuvring, speeding up, even: To Sisko’s eyes, it seemed to be accelerating towards the larger of the remaining Dominion vessels. Were the Scarrans planning on ramming their former ally? If so things must be desperate indeed for them.  The Scarrans were getting really close to the larger Dominion ship now. Suddenly, the sole remaining small, Dominion attack ship darted forwards, towards the Scarrans.

“They’re going to….” Nerys began, but the words died on her lips: Everyone could see what had happened, too quickly to commentate on. Although the Scarrans seemed to change course slightly to avoid the collision with the smaller Dominion craft, it was too little, too late. The Jem’Hadar attack ship rammed them, almost dead centre. The explosion was devastating for both vessels, as engines and remaining munitions on both ships soon fed into the conflagration.

The door to the bridge opened and Lieutenant Commander Eddington entered, just as the shock wave from the explosion gently rocked the Defiant. He made straight to stand beside the helm, leaving his usual console in the capable hands of the junior lieutenant. Sisko approved – now was not the time to be swapping people around unnecessarily.

“Was that…?” Sisko overheard Eddington ask Dax as he stood beside her, causing her to nod in reply. He, in turn responded with a nod of his own and what looked, from this angle, like a slight smile. But Sisko had no time to sit and stare at his officers, not in the middle of a battlefield, not if they wanted to ensure that no accidental, freak happening, such as colliding with some stray debris, revealed their presence.

“Helm, take us out to fifty thousand clicks!” Sisko ordered, hoping that would be enough to ensure their safety and secrecy whilst still allowing them to observe anything that might happen next.

“Looks like the Scarrans and the Dominion are at each others’ throats,” Eddington observed turning to address Sisko. If there had been the hint of a smile on Eddington’s features, it was controlled now. The captain nodded. Although it was a positive result for the Federation, that it seemed unlikely now that there would be an alliance between those powers, it could still prove an undesirable outcome if a war were to break out close to their borders.

“Will the Scarrans come through to attack the Dominion, do you think?” Sisko spun to face Aeryn. If you had a Scarran expert aboard, it seemed foolish not to ask their opinion.

“I don’t believe so,” Aeryn shook her head, immediately processing the question like the military officer Sisko knew her to be. “Not with any significant forces. Not if they aren’t going to get anything in return. Their forces are too finely balanced with the Peacekeepers to commit to hostile action against someone else.”

“Well, at least that is something to be grateful for,” Sisko let out a long held breath, willing the tensions of the last few days to leave his body.

“Fifty thousand kilometres achieved,” Dax announced from the helm. “Establishing a geostationary orbit.”

 ‘~’

“Captain, Commander, Moya and I are pleased to have you back aboard,” Pilot announced a few microts after John and Aeryn materialised aboard Moya’s command.

“Thank you, Pilot,” Aeryn replied, casting looks and limbs around her to re-orientate herself.

“It’s a genuine pleasure to be back,” John added, steadying himself by leaning against a console.

“Can I take it that events did not go entirely as you might have wished?”

“Oh, I dunno, Pilot? What’s the best we could have wished for?” John replied, straightening up once he got over his momentary disorientation.

“Moya’s sensors detected a great deal of heavy weapons fire from the direction of the planet. And at least two large explosions, of a size commensurate with the destruction of a ship….”

“Yep, Pilot it was situation normal, all frelled up.”

“Moya and I were worried for your safety…” Pilot seemed to be admonishing John for his flippant attitude.

“Thank you, Pilot,” Aeryn soothed.” Can you let Moya know that we are not expecting any further dangerous occurrences? We shall be heading back to the wormhole in about half an arn, once the Defiant is ready to depart.”

“Thought we’d throw ‘em a bone and show ‘em where it is.” John explained.

“So, is your business here concluded satisfactorily?”

“Concluded? Yeah? Satisfactorily? Well… so-so to that.”

“We were wondering if you had any intention of remaining in this region of space? Perhaps you would like to spend some time…?”

“Nope. Once we’ve shown the Defiant where the wormhole is located then that’s us done.”

“Oh,” Pilot sounded almost disappointed, as though he wanted to stay around for a while and learn more of this strange new part of the Universe. “Very well. Moya and I will prepare a course…”

“So, babe,” John turned his attention to Aeryn. “If we leave for the wormhole now, I reckon we could be home in the UTs by tonight.“

“Tonight?” She knotted her thick brows. “Why, what are we going to do tonight?”

“The same thing we do every night…” John replied in a sing-song tone.

“You wish…” Aeryn responded with a crooked grin.

“Captain….” Pilot’s voice intruded on their banter once again. “When you have time, Aeryn, Chiana has informed me that she wants to talk to you. She says she has something for you…”

“Huh?” John enquired on Aeryn’s behalf.

“I believe it may be something she obtained from the Defiant,” Pilot expounded. “Something of some importance, if I am any judge.”

“Oh frell!” Aeryn snarled. Her mind was already weighing up what that something could possibly be and coming to worrisome conclusions.

John blew out a breath and turned to face her. “Are you pondering what I’m pondering, Aeryn?”

Aeryn ground her teeth and rolled her eyes. She shook her head. “Don’t….  just…. Don’t.” She warned in clipped tones. And for once Commander John Crichton was wise enough to hold his tongue. “Where is Chiana now?” Aeryn called out to Pilot as she began marching off the command deck in search of her young friend and crewmate.

 

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I appreciate there is room for sequels... maybe someday, but I have nothing written or planned right now.


End file.
